


Power Play

by BaredWolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Hate Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:45:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaredWolf/pseuds/BaredWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naomi thinks she has Abaddon under her control, but Abaddon is a master manipulator. They both get off on the power play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power Play

It had been so long since she’d been topside in a vessel. Even after the mess the Winchesters put this one through, Abaddon knew she was still hot shit. A knight of hell: powerful, badass, a force to be reckoned with in any form.

So to say that this Naomi character piqued her interest was certainly a compliment to Naomi. It was the power, that’s what drew Abaddon to her: the raw power and self assurance she exuded. The confidence of someone one step below the ultimate authority: she knew what game she was playing, had all the rules, but had no responsibility for the outcomes. She wielded untold power exactly as she was instructed, and she was deadly accurate. It made Abaddon feel all tingly in exactly the right places. 

At the moment, unfortunately, that power was being wielded in her direction. Naomi had her pressed against the wall, a hand on her throat. She’d tried just to smite her, but Abaddon was no common demon.

“No dice, sister,” she ground out, gasping. “You’ll have to try a little harder if you want to win me over.” She winked, just to see how Naomi would react.

“You’re a knight, then. Abaddon, is it? Well, obviously a different...technique is required here. Unfortunately, it’s a bit messy.” She frowned, seemed to consider the dry cleaning bill for her spotless pantsuit. Did angels even use dry cleaning? Abaddon was fairly certain that question had never been relevant to her work before. She was also fairly certain that the current reduced supply of oxygen to her vessel’s brain was affecting her ability to think clearly. The too-white lights of this sterile glass-and-chrome office were hurting her eyes. Time for action, then.

“Messy, hmm? I can roll with messy,” she gasped. She grabbed Naomi’s hips, pulling them flush against her own and grinding obscenely against that fine, lightweight wool. Naomi’s grip loosened a fraction in shock, just enough for Abaddon to suck down a lung-full of much-needed air.

Naomi attempted to wrench her hips out of reach, scrabbling at her wrist with her free hand, finally forced to release her hold on Abaddon’s throat entirely to free herself from her grasp. Finally able to put a few paces between them, Abaddon felt herself still pinned to the wall by a force against her chest.

“I don’t do messy.” Naomi’s lips curved in a sarcastic imitation of a smile. “I have people for that.”

“Sister, trust me, you don’t have people for this.” She raked her eyes over the angel’s form, letting them linger however she felt, pleased to see a flush rise to Naomi’s cheeks.

“You’re an abomination,” Naomi hissed.

“Yeah, but a gorgeous one,  _ne c'est pas_? Powerful, too. I mean, I’m on your turf here, so brute force is obviously on your side,” she pouted towards her chest, still pinned, “but I have a few tricks up my sleeve too.” She let a tendril of power snake out, brush against Naomi’s neck just below her jaw. The angel gasped, her eyes closing momentarily before she fixed Abaddon with a glare that was as heated as it was full of rage. “Besides, the fact that it’s forbidden is half the fun.” She licked her lips, as much as in anticipation as in invitation.

Naomi’s lips curved into a snarl. “Try it again, Demon. See what I’ll do to you.” A challenge? An invitation? Abaddon wasn’t sure, but Naomi wasn’t backing down either way. She let the power bleed out again, wafting like smoke through the air to brush against Naomi’s skin. Upping the ante this time, it trailed like fingers across her collarbone, down between her breasts, spreading to the sides to just brush lightly...

“I will destroy you. You understand that? You are nothing to me. An abomination, fit only to be exterminated.” The words came out in a breathy growl. “Your very existence is an insult to my kind.” Naomi stepped closer as she spoke. “Now I have you here. You are mine. You live at my whim, and you will die when I say.”

“Hey, now, sweetheart, if you wanted me dead I have a feeling I’d already be just a smudge on your floor here. Regardless of the dry cleaning bill.” Naomi was close enough now that Abaddon could feel her breath against her face. She was close, so close to getting what she wanted. One more little push, and the angel would tip, give in. “I’m not yours. I never will be. You can’t control me, and it kills you. The only power you can hope to have over me is death. But even then, who says it’ll be permanent?” She smiled, nearly a leer. “You have nothing on me, sister. You’d better just accept that as fact.”

Naomi smiled, serene, calmer than she had been since this encounter started.  _She thinks she knows the way out_ , Abaddon mused.  _She thinks she’s found the solution, the way to control me_. Abaddon smirked internally as the angel fell neatly into her trap.

The force against her chest spread, moved up to wrap around her throat, then split. It pressed down on her shoulders, forcing her to her knees. It bound her hands behind her back, bound her ankles to the floor. She turned her face up to look at Naomi, the angel regarded her with an almost bored expression.

“I have every kind of power over you.” She stepped forward, sliding a hand into Abaddon’s hair. Abaddon could smell her, the warm scent of her arousal obvious even through the fabric of her pants. Naomi slid her free hand down Abaddon’s cheek, thumbing at her lower lip and smearing her lipstick. “There is nothing I cannot have from you.” She pressed at her lip as she tugged her hair, tipping Abaddon’s head back and opening her mouth. Abaddon snaked out her tongue to lick at the tip of Naomi’s thumb. She withdrew her hand with a sneer. She yanked on Abaddon’s hair, forcing her face against her clothed crotch.

“Lick,” she hissed. Abaddon licked at the fabric, the wool sucking the moisture from her mouth. Her lipstick smeared across her face, across the fabric; turns out, Naomi was going to have a hell of a dry cleaning situation anyways.

Two hands fisted in her hair, fingertips pressed into her scalp. Abaddon continued her relentless assault, finally soaking through the fabric so she could taste the wetness on the other side, could trace the contours of her lips, the hard nub of her clit. She lapped slowly, dragging her tongue across the bud, occasionally giving little sucks. Naomi’s breathing had sped up, but she gave no other indication of her enjoyment.

Abaddon was growing impatient: with her hands bound behind her back, Naomi was missing out on half the fun. She let her teeth scrape across her clit, bit down gently. The angel jumped, yanked back on her hair.

“I think I’m ruining your pants,” said Abaddon. “Maybe you should get them out of the way.” She smiled lazily. Naomi frowned, and Abaddon felt the force binding her squeeze a little tighter as Naomi relinquished her hold on Abaddon’s hair. Silently, she stepped over to one of the chairs in the room, slid off her pants. No panties, though Abaddon could have told you that already. She shucked her jacket as well, but kept the heels. She sat down in the chair, slouching and spreading her legs. Force yanked Abaddon to her feet, pushed her over to where Naomi now sat, forced her once again to her knees. One hand was released from the bonds.

“Continue.”

Abaddon traced a finger over Naomi’s slit, the barest of brushes. Finally, skin on skin contact, and it was like electric sparks shooting through her. The uptight, righteous angel, spread like a harlot before the knight of hell. It was heady, delicious. She slipped a finger inside as she gave a teasing brush of her tongue to her clit.

The angel’s hands were fisted in her hair again. This, this here, this was power. Pulling the angel apart from the inside out, reducing her to horrifically human drives and desires, teasing her with her own needs. This was all the control Abaddon had needed.

Defiling a bastion of Heaven’s will, stealing her control over her own self, this was what did it for Abaddon. Always had, more than any stimulation of the flesh could. It was the power struggle, the wrestling of wills, outwitting your opponent so thoroughly they didn’t realized they’d lost until years later. Naomi was an easy mark, really; those bound to hierarchy and order were always the easiest to subvert. They expected rules, certain responses to certain action: if you gave them what they expected, they never saw how you had lead them to expect it in the first place. Almost too easy. Naomi’s head lolled back against the white leather of the chair, her hips hips bucked in rhythm with Abaddon’s finger stroking in and out, hands fisted in Abaddon’s hair to grind her clit against her circling tongue.

Moments. Moments until her victory was complete. Moments until the angel’s will was entirely subsumed to her own, and Abaddon could feel the fire of victory burn through her veins as Naomi finally cried out, thighs and fingers clenching, spasming around Abaddon’s fingers as she gave herself over to sensation. Abaddon could taste the victory, sneered at the angel’s flushed and disheveled appearance, reveled in the desecration of this holy being.

Naomi flung her to the floor.  


End file.
